Prized
by Na'hiel
Summary: CURRENTLY ON HIATUS. Severus Snape's loyalty has always been to Harry, not to Dumbledore or the Order. When he finds out that Harry is a horcrux and Dumbledore intends to have him killed, Severus goes to the Dark Lord with the information in an effort to save Harry's life, and in doing so changes the fate of the world. Eventual slash, rating subject to change.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Prized

Prologue-

"Are you quite certain, Severus?"

"I am, my lord. The information comes from Dumbledore himself. And it would make sense, considering the small matter of the connection between the two of you."

Voldemort's breath left him in an irritated hiss. "So, he thinks he can fool me? Thinks that I'll just play along with his game and kill a piece of myself? If that is indeed the case, Severus, then I refuse to play his game. I'll change the rules instead. Harry Potter is mine, and I won't have him injured."

"Of course, my lord," Severus agreed with a low bow of his head. It was exactly as he'd hoped. Of course Voldemort wasn't willing to allow one of his horcruxes to be potentially destroyed. He would keep Potter safe.

"Does Dumbledore know anything of my others? Or is it just Harry that he knows about?"

"I believe that he knows of several, my lord. It is my understanding that Dumbledore intends on going after your ring at some point this summer, perhaps within the next week or so."

Voldemort let out a soft, hissing laugh that was filled with amusement. "Is that what he intends? Then I suppose he would just be ever so disappointed if there was nothing waiting for him when he got there, wouldn't he?" he asked through his laughter.

"He would indeed, my lord," Severus agreed.

"And… tell me, Severus, do you believe that Harry will eventually grow to appreciate what I intend to do to keep him safe?"

Severus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There is… information that I possess which will, I believe, make him far more amenable to a change in his loyalties. Provided, of course, that you are not overly averse to the idea of his learning that he is in fact one of your horcruxes."

Voldemort sat up straight in his chair, then, and all the amusement faded from his expression. "In that case, Severus, I've new orders for you. I want Harry safe and out of the hands of Dumbledore. You have access to his summer residence, yes?"

"I do, my lord," Severus said.

"Then you will take him from there. Tell him whatever you deem prudent, so long as it ensures his cooperation. I will have a Muggle driver meet you at his summer residence, and you will escort him to a safe location. Since I've no doubt Dumbledore will notice him missing and will call upon you to join the search, you will leave him in the hands of the person who meets you there."

"Of course, my lord." Severus bowed low to the Dark Lord and, when he was dismissed, he left.

How could Dumbledore have been so foolish as to forget the nature of Severus' oaths? His loyalty was to Harry, and Severus would do anything to keep him alive. He'd sworn no loyalty to Dumbledore, none to the Order. Just to Harry, in his mother's name.

Perhaps Harry wouldn't be happy with the hand that life was dealing him. He would be furious and betrayed at the information that Severus was going to give him, but… but he would be alive to be unhappy, and that was what mattered. It might not be what Harry would have wanted, and it might not be what Lily would have wanted, but it was something.

The Dark Lord would make certain that Harry stayed alive, and that was more than he could say for Dumbledore.

ooOOooOOoo

There it was.

It was beautiful. It was nothing like what he'd expected, and yet, it was everything he could have hoped for. The magic pouring from the stone was breathtaking. How could Voldemort not have realized what he'd had in his possession?

Albus couldn't resist. He reached out, picked up the ring, and placed it upon his finger. It looked perfect. It was perfect.

At least, it was perfect for the second he had before his finger began burning fiercely. Albus tore the ring from his finger and flung it away, but it was too late. Already there was a small, painful black spot of rot on the finger where the ring had rested, and it was slowly spreading. Had the ring been a trap? But… how could Voldemort have known that Albus was coming?

He couldn't have. There was no way he could have known. Perhaps Voldemort really was just that paranoid. This was one of the things anchoring his soul to the world, after all. Had he ever been so foolish to create a horcrux, Albus knew that he, too, would have been rather paranoid in the protection of them.

He'd been an idiot, he supposed.

And then, as he was about to leave the remains of the shack, he appeared. Albus drew his wand but realized before he could embarrass himself with the first curse that he was looking at some sort of illusion. It had to have activated when he'd put the ring on his finger, or perhaps even when he'd picked the ring up in the first place.

"Oh, Albus, you've gone and made things so much easier on me," Voldemort said with a vicious grin. "As though I would have ever left one of my seven horcruxes just lying around for you to destroy. What sort of fool do you take me for? I would never leave anything of mine in your hands for long. The lack of care you take with your things is appalling."

Voldemort's bloodthirsty grin softened. "I have no doubt that you'll be able to slow the progression of this curse. But you won't be able to stop it entirely, and in the end, it will kill you. The rot will spread from your finger to your arm, and up through to your heart. Once it reaches there, you will die an excruciating death. I was going to make dear Draco kill you, but I've another task in mind for him now."

"Best of luck to you, Albus. This is the last I'll be bothering with you, so good luck with the rest of your life. It will be terribly short, but I suppose you could still make it sweet."

The projection faded with an amused chuckle from the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore closed his eyes. If Voldemort was to be believed, he was dying. But he at least now knew how many horcruxes there were. That was… it was something. The ring was undoubtedly a fake, but at least he had something to go on now. He could at least continue his research. The information could be given to Harry, at least some of it, and the rest could go to Severus.

It wasn't an ideal situation, of course. Albus had intended to see this through, to live in a peaceful world with no Dark Lord. But at least one way or another, Voldemort would fall. Albus had done so much in the name of that goal, he couldn't imagine any other outcome.

Voldemort had to fall, once and for all. He was going to make sure of it.

* * *

><p>AN: Pairings for this story will include Harry/Draco, Harry/Voldemort, possible Harry/Draco/Voldemort, Remus/Severus, and others to be announced. Individual chapters may have warnings at the top that I strongly advise you pay attention to. This story was initially intended to be a prequel to my one-shot "The Road to Hell," but I've since changed my plans. While many things may work out in the same way as they did in that story, I don't intend for every character's fate to be as it was mentioned in that story.

As usual with my stories, this is a work in progress. It will update when I have time and when the next chapter is ready. School is in session, so I don't know when that will be.


	2. Chapter One - The Professor's Promise

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Prized

Chapter One - The Professor's Promise

The summer was passing… relatively normally, actually. Too much work, too little food, and nobody cared. On the one hand, the work was great because it kept his mind off of Sirius. On the other hand, the lack of food was making him terribly dizzy.

Harry knelt in the front garden, his vision going spotty. He'd had a piece of toast for breakfast since he was still on punishment for chipping a plate last night. He wouldn't eat again until dinner, and that would be only if Petunia was feeling terribly generous. Which she likely wasn't. And the stripes on his back from that same punishment burned viciously with every drop of sweat that hit them.

"Are you quite well, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, and now I'm hearing things," Harry muttered. Were hallucinations a side effect of hunger? He didn't think so…

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Potter, you are not hearing things," Professor Snape said, sounding mildly amused.

Harry shot to his feet and spun around and immediately regretted the motion when his head spun and his knees tried to buckle. When the dizzy spell faded, Professor Snape was carefully bracing him with his hands around Harry's upper arms.

"Again, Mr. Potter, are you well?" The Professor's voice was, weirdly enough, the gentlest Harry had ever heard it. He actually sounded almost concerned.

"Just hungry, Professor," Harry said honestly before he thought about it.

"Then I might suggest eating, rather than gardening." Professor Snape withdrew his hand carefully, though he stood much closer than before. He probably didn't want Harry passing out on his watch.

"Oh, yes Professor, because that thought hadn't crossed my mind," Harry muttered. It wasn't like Hogwarts was in session. He didn't have to pretend to like the man, or be polite to him. It wasn't like he could take points or assign a detention, after all.

Professor Snape's lip twitched upward ever so slightly in what could only be an expression of mild amusement. "And yet, Mr. Potter, I find you hear. Gardening. One might wonder at the logic of such a thing."

There were so many things that Harry wanted to say in response to the somewhat snide comment. That he was on punishment and had already eaten once, that he was lucky to be outside and not locked in his room with nothing to do but stare at the walls and think of Sirius, that he could die and the Dursleys' only concern would be how it looked to the neighbors. He swallowed them all back and instead said, "I'm sure you're here for a reason that has nothing to do with critiquing my dietary habits, aren't you?"

The Professor inclined his head. "Indeed I am, Mr. Potter. We could, perhaps, discuss matters over lunch."

Harry shrugged. "If you insist," he said, although food did sound sort of amazing. "We could go out somewhere, I guess." He didn't let his hope bleed into his voice. The thought of getting away from the house for a bit was almost intoxicating, but somehow he doubted that was going to happen.

The Professor's smile was something vicious as he responded with, "No, actually I was thinking that your dear Aunt Petunia might be willing to host us."

Harry frowned. Not because he'd actually expected to get to leave the house, of course, but because the tone in the Professor's voice sounded almost like… No. That was ridiculous. How would Professor Snape have ever met his Aunt? He couldn't possibly know her.

"Are you still working on the garden, you good for nothing-" Aunt Petunia's voice cut off with a small squeak, interrupting her shouting. "You! Snape! What are you doing here, and dressed like that?"

The Professor glanced down at his black robes and a smirk crossed his lips. "Is that any way to greet an old acquaintance, Petunia?" The Professor had that silky, dangerous tone to his voice that Harry was familiar with as he added, "And here I thought you might be pleased to see me after all this time."

"You know my Aunt, Professor?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. Then he wanted to kick himself. What did it matter if the Professor knew his Aunt?

"I…" Professor Snape paused and then said softly, with a peculiar look upon his face, "I grew up with your mother, actually. She was my friend, up until the point when I made a terrible mistake." He closed his eyes, his expression pained, then he opened his eyes and shook his head. "Enough about that. Won't you let me join you for lunch, Petunia? Harry and I have matters that need discussing."

Petunia's breath left her in an irritated hiss. "By all means, Snape, come in." Harry had never heard a more begrudging invitation, and it made him stifle a grin. "You too, brat. I'll see if I can't find something suitable for lunch."

Harry figured that suitable meant the least she could provide without raising questions, but it was better than he would have gotten without the Professor's presence. So he followed the Professor and his Aunt into the house, and ignored Dudley's squawking when she seated them at the kitchen table. She bustled through the kitchen while Harry and the Professor sat in silence and Dudley complained loudly at their presence. Eventually she placed a sandwich and a cup of soup in front of them both, along with a glass of water.

"This is lovely, Petunia, thank you," the Professor said. He even managed to sound like he meant it, though the smirk on his face gave the lie to that thought.

Her lip curled into a snarl. "Dudley, you and I are going to go get lunch elsewhere. If you need anything else, Snape, Harry can get it for you. He knows his way around the kitchen." The look she shot Harry as she said it told him that they'd better not need anything else.

She left the kitchen, then, and Harry heard the door slam shut a few moments later and with it Dudley's obnoxious complaints were cut off.

Harry took a deep breath. "So, Professor, you needed to talk to me?" He picked up his cup of soup carefully, his hands shaking a bit, and took a sip. It tasted like heaven, even though it had probably just come from a can.

"I think that matters can wait until after you've eaten," the Professor said quietly, his smirk fading to a frown now that Aunt Petunia wasn't in the room.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "It's surprising, Professor, but I am actually capable of eating and talking at the same time." He took a bite of his sandwich after he finished speaking to prove his point.

The Professor quirked an eyebrow at him. "Very well." He took a sip of his own soup, swallowed, and then, as Harry finished taking another sip of his soup, said, "We'll be leaving here at the conclusion of our conversation, Mr. Potter."

Harry choked on his sip of soup and glowered at the Professor through watering eyes. He'd done that on purpose. Harry was sure of it. And the slight grin on the man's lips made it clear that he was amused by it, too.

"As I said, Mr. Potter, we'll discuss it after we eat."

The rest of the meal passed in an awkward silence. Harry drank all of his soup and managed to eat only half of his sandwich. Once he started to feel nauseous he pushed the sandwich away from him and sipped at his water.

The Professor raised an eyebrow at the other half of the sandwich but said nothing. He finished his own meal, wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned back in his chair.

"Well?" Harry asked. He wanted to know where he was going, and why they were leaving now. It was still early in the summer for him to be leaving Privet Drive, not that he was complaining.

"The news that I bring to you may be… distressing, Mr. Potter, and I think you will find it difficult to believe so long as the information comes from my words alone. Since I do not really wish to discuss the veracity of my statements with you, I've taken the liberty of bringing this with me." He pulled a miniaturized Pensieve from his pocket and restored it to it's original size with a tap of his wand.

"You're going to have me watch one of your memories?" Harry was startled. After the rage the Professor had shown last year when he'd… well, he was surprised.

"I don't believe that you'll trust what information I have for you based only on my word alone, Mr. Potter," the Professor said. "Nor do I think you should. But I need you to believe this information, and this is the only way I can think of for you to do so."

Harry felt a frisson of dread inside of him and pushed it away. He focused instead on the Professor extracting his memory and placing it into the Pensieve. Once it had been extracted, the Professor gestured with one hand to the Pensieve. "Please, Mr. Potter. We'll discuss the memory after you've viewed it."

There was something in his eyes, a sort of regret that made Harry wonder what exactly he was going to see, and then he closed his eyes and immersed himself in the memory. There was probably only one way to find out.

He found himself in the Headmaster's study, watching as Professor Snape settled himself in the chair across from the Headmaster's desk.

"Have you heard anything new in your meetings, Severus?" the Headmaster asked quietly, even as he poured tea for the two of them.

"I haven't. The Dark Lord has been remarkably close-mouthed about his plans, considering the way he normally speaks of them."

The Headmaster's frown was fierce. "Has he mentioned Harry recently?" He passed the second teacup to the Professor, who did not drink. He merely cradled the cup between his hands.

Snape shook his head. "He hasn't. As I said, he's been very quiet recently. Should he have been mentioning Harry?"

The Headmaster sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You know that Harry is the subject of the prophecy, yes? I've been.. monitoring him for years. Ms. Granger tells me that his letters this summer have become increasingly depressed."

Harry's stomach dropped even as Professor Snape said, "He did just lose his godfather. I'd be surprised if he weren't depressed."

"Mr. Weasley reports a similar level of depression, along with a lock of interest in most things. Both state that the level of his depression does not seem consistent with the way that Harry normally responds to a great loss."

Harry's breathing stuttered a bit. Ron and Hermione were spying on him for the Headmaster. His two best friends in all the world were… were what? Informing on him? Suddenly Harry was certain that he didn't want to see the rest of the memory, but he didn't think he had much a choice. For one thing, he didn't know how to extract himself. With some effort, he returned his attention to the conversation.

"-since before his first year, actually. I made the deal with Molly after Hagrid took the boy for his supplies. He'd expressed concerns after seeing the boy speaking with a Malfoy, and Harry is so very important that I could leave nothing to chance."

"You didn't know that Voldemort was coming back even then, did you?" Professor Snape's tone was guarded, but perhaps the Headmaster didn't notice. Or maybe he did and he just didn't care. Harry couldn't really tell. "There was always the chance that Harry had defeated him the first time around."

The look that the Headmaster shot at the Professor said exactly what he thought of that. "Voldemort was always coming back, Severus," he said, somewhat impatiently. "It was only a matter of time. It's very fortunate that now I've figured out how he managed it."

The Professor's eyes widened. "You have?"

"I began to suspect in Harry's second year with that awful diary. How could a sixteen year old have created a such a powerful artifact? And what sort of artifact could actually manage to possess a child as Ginny was being possessed?" The Headmaster shook his head. "It took me several years, but eventually I figured it out. Tell me, Severus, have you ever heard of horcruxes?"

Professor Snape's breath left him in a rush, along with all the blood in his face. The word itself gave Harry another chill. "The Dark Lord made a horcrux? No wonder he's mad." The Professor shook his head.

The Headmaster laughed, a soft and bitter sound. "Not just one, Severus. He made several. Enough that, when he went to kill little Harry to make sure that the Prophecy could never come true, he accidentally made another."

The look on the Professor's face was terrible. "That's how the Dark Lord was possessing him last year," he breathed. "We need to get that thing out of him."

The Headmaster shook his head. "I've looked, Severus. The only way to remove a horcrux from its vessel is to destroy the vessel." He sounded almost mournful as he added, "That would mean that we would have to kill Harry."

"And as long as Voldemort has even one horcrux left…"

"He will always be anchored to this world. Severus, I tell you this because I am concerned. I am going after one of the horcruxes, a ring, but it could be rather dangerous. If I die in this, I need you to take over the hunt for me. And, when the time comes…"

The memory cut off, then, throwing Harry back to the real world.

Harry stared blankly at the Professor, at a loss for words. What could he say?

"Are you well, Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape asked gently, and Harry shattered.

He started crying and then he couldn't stop. He wrapped his arms around himself, hunched over, and sobbed helplessly, the pain too great to stop the tears. HIs friends… weren't. They weren't his friends. They were… they were spies, for the Headmaster, because…

Because the Headmaster needed him to die to get rid of Voldemort.

"Why would you tell me that?" Harry choked out through his tears.

"I thought it was something that you deserved to know," the Professor answered, as though it were obvious. There was, however, a bit of regret in his voice that hurt all the more for Harry to hear.

Harry began to cry harder, then, and only managed to choke out another, "Why?" before he could get nothing else out. He felt something inside of him give way, heard glass shatter, then heard nothing as he fell unconscious.

ooOOooOOoo

Severus studied the damage Harry had done to the house. It was impressive, actually, that he'd managed to almost bring the ceiling down on them considering his physical condition. All the windows on the first floor were broken and one of the walls had blown out. His grief was.. impressive.

"You! What have you done to my house?" Petunia shrieked. Her whale of a son stood behind her in the entrance to the kitchen, an awestruck look on his face.

He hadn't realized that so much time had passed. Nonetheless, the timing of their return was fortuitous. "Just the two I was waiting for," he said quietly. "_Stupify!_"

They both fell to the floor, unconscious. With a careful application of two Obliviates, he made them remember an argument with Harry, followed by the explosion, followed by their passing out. There was nothing of his presence in the house, and to further that illusion he cleaned the dishes he'd been using and replaced them in the cabinets.

"_Accio_ Harry's things," he murmured. He heard a great thumping noise, followed by a crash and an indignant hooting. Soon enough Harry's owl and trunk were at his feet, the owl snapping her beak irritably at him from her cage.

He ignored her, shrunk Harry's trunk, and placed it into his pocket. He lifted Harry into his arms carefully and levitated the cage behind him.

He carried him down the front walk and out to the long black car waiting for him at the curb. He settled Harry and then sat next to him and said to the driver, "Go."

The car pulled smoothly away from the curb and Severus closed his eyes and relaxed. They had Harry. He was safe. He could keep his promise to Lily.

Harry would be okay. He would make certain of it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For the record, pairings in this story will include both Harry/Draco and Harry/Voldemort. The only thing in question is whether there will be a threesome or not. The fact that the two pairings will exist within the story really isn't up for debate.**


	3. Chapter Two - Narcissa

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Prized

Chapter Two - Narcissa

When Harry woke up he knew immediately that he wasn't in the Dursley's house. His bed there had never been so soft, and the sheet that he'd had wasn't anything like the warm blankets that surrounded him. It almost felt like he was lying on a cloud.

He blinked blearily up at the ceiling, an unfamiliar shade of off-white, and tried to figure out what had happened. The last thing he remembered was…

"Are you awake, then?"

Harry went from half asleep to mostly awake in a the space of a breath. His heart pounded. That voice. He sat up straight, the motion tugging at his abused back painfully but he didn't care. That voice! He stared at the speaker, then felt his heartbeat settle into something more regular. Not Bellatrix.

But… "Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked, just to make sure. He'd never spent any time around her at all, but he was pretty sure he recognized her. She certainly looked like a Malfoy might, regal and ever so slightly disdaining of her surroundings.

She inclined her head gracefully. "We're in a hotel in France," she said quietly. "Since I'm certain you were about to ask. Severus must help the Order search for you, or he would have been glad to stay with you himself. I've been tasked with your care until such time as our Lord deems it safe for you to return to London once more."

Harry's eyes widened in realization. "Snape gave me to the Dark Lord," he said quietly. "This… isn't exactly the sort of cell that I would have expected from him." And then he winced, because he really should try to get out of the habit of blurting out whatever was on his mind. It wouldn't serve him well in the weeks to come, he imagined.

Narcissa frowned at him. "This isn't a cell at all, Mr. Potter, this is a five star hotel in Muggle France. Although, for your own safety, I must request that you not leave the hotel. The Order will be searching for you."

"Why would Voldemort put me in a hotel somewhere? I thought he wanted me dead." Harry's head was starting to ache in his confusion.

"I do not know what prompted his decision, but the Dark Lord has declared you are precious to him, and are to be treated accordingly. You are in no danger from any Death Eater, at least not from any that hope to retain the Dark Lord's favor."

Harry closed his eyes and flopped back on the bed, and immediately regretted it when his back protested. "And what if I'd like to leave?"

"I'm afraid that I have been asked to keep you here through any means necessary," Narcissa said calmly, and lifted her sleeve slightly to reveal her wand, in a holster on her arm. "That includes anything up to and including placing you into a magical coma until such time as someone more qualified than I arrives to keep you in place."

Harry sighed. He rolled onto his side and curled as much into a ball as he could without his back hurting. What did it matter, anyway? It wasn't like he had any reasons to escape. The Headmaster believed that he had to die to end the war. His friends were spies. He wondered if they had ever really been his friends, or if they'd always been spying on him. Had anything they'd shared been real?

"I realize that being stuck inside isn't any young man's idea of a good summer," Narcissa began, her tone somewhat lecturing. "There is, however, quite a lot to do just inside this building. They've a spa, several different swimming pools, and a movie theater."

"I… in the hotel?" Harry's confusion distracted him from his growing depression. What kind of hotel had all of that stuff? None that the Dursleys had ever mentioned.

"More of a resort, I suppose. We could also go horseback riding, apparently, although that would necessitate our going outside."

Harry rolled over and found that Mrs. Malfoy was reading off of a brochure. "You have no idea what some of that is, do you Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked, amused despite himself. The thought of a Malfoy in a movie theater was an entertaining one.

"Of course not," she answered with a small sniff. "They are, for the most part, Muggle activities. And please, I would greatly appreciate it if you were to call me Narcissa." Her smile, when she looked up at him, was soft and gentle.

Harry couldn't keep himself from responding to the smile with a hesitant one of his own. Were Ron here, he imagined he would have been just as confused as Narcissa was. People raised in the magical world never did seem to do well moving about in the Muggle one. Not that it mattered anymore, because he would never go anywhere with Ron again.

The thought broke his burgeoning good mood, and Harry rolled back over and stared at the wall. "Maybe we could do something tomorrow," he said quietly. Not that he thought that he would want to do anything tomorrow, either.

"You must be exhausted," Narcissa said after a moment of silence. "I'll leave you to rest, then," she murmured. He heard her moving about the room, and the room went dark. She must have drawn the curtain over the huge windows on the other side of the room, and for that Harry was grateful.

He heard the door click as it closed, and then he was alone in the room. How appropriate.

ooOOooOOoo

"He hasn't left the room all day, Severus. Not since you left him with me," Harry heard Narcissa say, and heard the door crack open.

The light from the outer room crept in and Harry closed his eyes against it. He'd been alone in the dark for a while, after all, and it hurt his eyes.

"Mr. Potter?" he heard Professor Snape ask quietly.

Harry didn't answer. Perhaps it was childish of him, but he didn't want to. He couldn't find the energy.

He heard the Professor let out a small sigh. "We'll be out shortly," he said, presumably to Narcissa. The door closed again and the lights flicked on, bright and punishing even with his eyes closed.

Harry flinched and buried his head in the pillow to ward off the brightness.

He felt the bed dip behind him and felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I can understand that you're upset," the Professor began quietly.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" Harry asked before he could continue.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why didn't you just kill me? Why give me to Voldemort?"

"Would you have preferred it if I had?" the Professor asked, sounding genuinely startled.

"Maybe," Harry whispered.

He heard the Professor suck in a sharp breath of air. There was a moment of silence and then, softly, the Professor said, "I joined the Death Eaters when I'd only just graduated from Hogwarts. Shortly after I joined, I overheard a prophecy regarding the fall of the Dark Lord. Because I was eager to prove myself, I took that information to Voldemort and only after I did so did I realize that I'd just as good as killed your mother."

Harry rolled over and stared up at the Professor. He was staring off at the wall, a far away look on his face. Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything, but closed it once more without speaking. What could he say?

"I loved your mother, Harry, very much. I… it was information that I gave the Dark Lord that led to her death. I wanted to die when she did. But I didn't, Harry, because I made her a promise. I swore on her grave, on my magic and my life, that I would do everything in my power to keep you alive in the years to come."

"But you hate me," he managed to choke out through the shock spreading through him.

"A part the Headmaster asked me to play. I had no choice in it, Harry. If it would help keep you alive, Harry, I would have given anything. You hating me was a small price to pay."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was a lot to process, and he wasn't sure… he couldn't… He took another deep breath. "What do you want from me?" he asked.

"For now, I'd like for you to get up and have dinner with Narcissa and I. Eventually, I would like to see you happy and thriving in this new environment." The Professor's lips quirked into a slight smile. "I acknowledge the difficulty of such a thing."

Harry thought about that, turning it over in his mind for several minutes. Finally, he sat up. He ignored the twinges in his back as he did so. "I can do dinner," he offered quietly.

The Professor's smile broadened. "I am glad to hear that," he said.

Harry tried to return his smile. He could do this. He could. He could at least try, anyway.

ooOOooOOoo

The restaurant was nice, nicer than any place Harry had ever been in his life. He felt very much out of place in his oversized jeans and t-shirt, especially next to Narcissa and Professor Snape. She wore a dark blue dress and he wore a button-down shirt and trousers.

"Relax, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said calmly. "You're fine."

"I just really don't think I should be in a place like this dressed the way I am," Harry muttered. He slouched into his chair behind his menu and tried to make himself inconspicuous. He felt like everyone was staring at him, even if he was pretty sure that they weren't.

"If they had a dress code, they wouldn't have let you in," Narcissa said. "Have you never been in a restaurant like this?"

"No." There was a lot that he could have added to that statement, about the Dursleys and the way that he'd grown up, but he didn't. It wasn't any of their business, and it didn't matter anyway.

"Then this is the perfect way to begin your etiquette lessons," she said, a smile in her voice.

Harry's head jerked up and he stared at her incredulously. She looked incredibly smug, with just a hint of a smile on her lips. "Etiquette lessons?" Harry finally asked.

"If you're going to be in the presence of the Dark Lord, you must know how to properly handle yourself. That includes eating in restaurants much fancier than this one."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, then closed it and opened his menu instead. He wanted to close it almost immediately. He couldn't read anything on the menu. It was written entirely in French. Which, now that he thought about it, made sense. They were in France, after all.

Harry let out a small groan and let his head flop against the table. It hurt, but since he could already feel a headache blossoming, that was okay.

ooOOooOOoo

Dinner had been something of an exercise in torture, and so Harry was glad to get back to his room after it was over. He retreated to the bedroom he'd come to think of as his own almost immediately, leaving Narcissa and the Professor in the sitting room. Only moments after he'd fallen forward onto the bed, someone tapped on the door.

Harry groaned but called out, "Come in!"

The Professor entered the room and settled into the chair near the bed. "Are you going to behave for Narcissa?" he asked bluntly.

Harry sat up and shrugged, ignoring the pulling on the marks on his back. "It isn't like I have a better option, is it?" he asked. If he sounded a bit bitter, he was pretty sure that nobody could blame him.

The Professor leaned forward. "Harry, I swear she has your best interests in mind," he said quietly.

Harry's lip curled. "She doesn't know me," he snarled. "She has no idea what's in my best interest. And neither do you, for that matter. Neither one of you know anything about me!"

"Did you want me to leave you there, then? To let Dumbledore continue to manipulate you until it was time for you to die?"

Harry flinched. "I don't…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "I suppose not," he said.

"I know that this is hard on you, Harry," the Professor said gently. "Don't think that I don't understand that this is probably one of the worst things you've ever dealt with. You were betrayed, and I don't blame you for being upset."

"Well, as long as you don't blame me, Professor," Harry muttered, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Professor Snape laughed quietly. "You should be thanking me, you know," he said. "The Dark Lord's first thought was to send somebody you would be more comfortable with. A boy of your own age, with good manners and impeccable breeding." The Professor paused, then added, "He thought Draco would be a good candidate."

Harry felt the blood rush from his face. "Professor," Harry began, only to stop when the Professor raised one hand.

"I told him that it was likely far too soon for you to try to make friends so soon after the ones you had betrayed you. That was when he decided on Narcissa."

"Thank you," Harry breathed.

"Don't think you've escaped it entirely. All I've done is buy you some time."

"Yeah, but all I have to do is make it work for the two months until Hogwarts opens, then…" Harry stopped suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "I won't be going back to Hogwarts, will I?" he asked.

"No," the Professor confirmed. "I believe the Dark Lord intends to find you a suitable private tutor to finish your education."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When that was shaky, he took a few more for good measure. "I'll behave for Narcissa," he finally managed to say, answering the initial question.

The Professor took it for the dismissal that it sort of was. He stood and said, "I don't know when I'll be able to return. The Headmaster is desperate to have you found. If the Dark Lord does choose to send Draco to you, please try to be civil."

Harry groaned but said, "I'll try." Then, after a moment of thought, he said, "I'll try if he does."

The Professor nodded. "Stay safe, Harry." He walked to the door, then, and opened it.

Just as he was about to step through, Harry called to him, "Professor!"

Professor Snape turned with one eyebrow quirked in question. "Yes?"

Harry took another deep breath. "I don't…" He stopped and cleared his throat. "I don't think I said. I haven't really been at my best. But… thank you, again, for saving my life." He looked down at the carpet, a dark red that probably hid a multitude of stains.

"You are most welcome," the Professor said softly. He left the room and the closed the door behind him.

Harry let himself fall back onto the bed and flinched at the spike of pain from his back. He rolled onto his side and stared at the closed door. He could stay in his room and sulk, which was what he really wanted to do. Or… or he could get up and go into the sitting room and speak with Narcissa. See if he could make things easier on both of them, rather than being difficult and unreasonable. This wasn't her fault, after all.

He stood and left his room. Narcissa was sitting on one of the armchairs near the windows in the sitting room. She was reading a book, though she looked up and smiled when he came out. He cleared his throat and said, "You said something about etiquette lessons?"

"I did, indeed," she said, and placed a bookmark in her book. She set it on the coffee table next to the chair. "Please, sit with me."

Harry nodded, and went to sit in the other armchair. He could do this. Really. He could. If he kept repeating it, maybe it would even be true.


End file.
